How It Should have Happened
by marmar122097
Summary: Merlin lives with Freya in a beautiful country house in a valley with wildflowers and sheep. How did he get there? Where did the house come from? What about Freya's curse? What happened to destiny? Where is Arthur? Rated T just 'cause I'm not sure where it's going yet. Not heavily angst, Merlin/Freya and Merlin/Arthur bromance.
1. Chapter 1

**AN:** **So this is my first fanfic, but I've belonged to the community for a while now. So, hello, I suppose. I've had this written for a while, but this website always confused me, so I finally figured out how to post. Constructive criticism is appreciated, comments are adored. I'm not quite sure where this fic is going yet, but I have many questions that I plan to answer. Updates are probably going to come fairly quickly in the beginning and gradually level off, but I'll try to update at least once a week. Just as final note, I appreciate people following and favoriting and such, but I'm not really writing this story for you. I'm writing to get my work out there, not to please my followers. But, if there is an 'everybody' who choose to push for something in the story, I'll go with it. So that's it for this super long AN. Read on :)**

Merlin rose up from his bed, hair tousled. He walked over the cupboard and got out his trousers, a red shirt, his boots, his jacket, and the blue neckerchief. He then exited the room, emerging into the kitchen with bright morning light streaming through the clean windows, and cool air blowing through the open door. The warlock walked over to the door and leaned against the jamb, conjuring an apple in his palm and taking a big bite.

The view was beautiful. The ground cascaded down a gradual slope into the middle of the valley, where there sparkled a glistening lake, the sunlight turning the tiny waves to a million diamonds. Dotting the rolling hills, wildflowers of purple and pink and white completed the picturesque view. Opposite the modest house, a few sheep bleated, their voices carried on the summer breeze. Merlin smiled to himself, and turned back into his home.

Freya gracefully stepped down the stairs. Her hair was freshly brushed and braided down one side, with the wildflowers they had picked on their walk yesterday weaved into it. Aithusa bounded down the stairs after her, nearly knocking her over. Merlin couldn't help but stare in awe, as he did every day. She always seemed more and more beautiful, especially once her curse had been broken. She smiled more now, and it transformed her face into the most exquisite, delicate creature that exists.

"Freya!" Merlin cried, like a happy child would scream "candy!". She glided over and they embraced, kissing quickly.

"Shall we get some breakfast?" Freya suggested.

"Alright." Merlin turned towards the table and waved his hand, eyes burning gold and food filling the table.

"Merlin." Freya said, happily. She always protested but secretly enjoyed it when he conjured the food instead of cooking it. When she said it like that, Merlin was eerily reminded of Arthur, and that put a damper on his morning every time.

He didn't let it bother him.

"Shall we?" He asked, leading her to the small table and pulling the chair out for her. He was just sitting down when a knock came on the door.

Aithusa growled, his white scales gleaming in the morning sun. A little spurt of flame escaped from his mouth, which Merlin quickly extinguished.

"Who could that be?" He asked, his expression darkening. They never got visitors, in all their months here, they had only seen other people when they went into town.

Merlin cautiously went to the door, priming his magic in case of quick needs. He wished he had time to get his Sidhe staff, but it was in the workshop and he probably wouldn't need it. There should be nothing to be afraid of, but he couldn't help but shake the feeling that something big was happening, and when something big had happened in Camelot, it was usually bad.

Merlin opened the wooden front door quickly and violently, confronting whatever was beyond it.

It was beyond bad.

It was Arthur.


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: So I'm super happy. A few favs and follows, plus a ton of views, and a comment or two; is good enough to make my entire week! Thank you thank you! Here is the next story. The general style of this fic will be a bit of the present plot, then a flashback to _how_ everything came about, and then another chapter in the present. Here you go!**

_11 months earlier..._

The beast was black. The yellow eyes glinted with what surely was hatred, right? It couldn't possibly look... sad. Arthur wouldn't allow himself to think that, anyways. This was a beast that had been terrorizing Camelot for a few days now, and something had to be done.

So Arthur dismissed the definite look of sadness and regret in the cat's eyes. Instead, he focused on the wings, claws, and teeth. The wings because although they had the monster cornered, it could potentially fly away and he would have to return to his father, facing more disappointment.

He would be defeated again.

He focused on the claws and teeth for entirely different reasons. The claws, because they were long and sharp and almost shiny in the moon and torchlight, glinting deliverers of harsh pain. The prince of Camelot wouldn't want to wish that kind of injury on any of his knights. Leon stood at his right, sword arm cocked back and other hand balancing the weight as he readied to strike, unsure of what the creature would do. The teeth, brought to the forefront of Arthur's mind when a loud growl erupted from the pink mouth, were sharp, and they were bared. The wings gave an experimental flap, but the creature seemed indecisive as to whether to fight or to flee. Be the predator, or be the prey? Arthur, on the other hand, held no qualms about being predator. It's better than being dead. He also had no qualms about taking the life of the mindless beast which had threatened his people and kingdom. The beast's muscles tightened in its back legs, and Arthur saw this as a sign of preparing to spring. He was about to counter that oncoming spring with a strike of his own, but something stopped him.

He doesn't stop because of someone's voice, at least; not directly. He stops because he simply cannot move. Unless he is experiencing some kind of instant paralysis, that can be cured by a very helpful and eyebrow-raising physician, this is magic. Sorcery. And it has the prince of Camelot in its midst. His eyes can still move, and they look frantically to the left and right, looking for his knights. They all seemed to have suffered the same frozen fate. Why would a sorcerer want to stop him from attacking this beast? Is it some kind of pet?

"Freya!" Comes an all-too familiar shout. Merlin, that idiot manservant, rushes onto the scene. His hand is outstretched, palm towards the frozen Arthur. With the familiar head of black hair and the normal brown jacket covering a red shirt and his blue neckerchief, which he apparently thinks is somehow cool, he is the same old Merlin. Almost.

Arthur does a double-take. If he could blink or pinch himself, he would have done so. Because what he is seeing is something that simply cannot be. Merlin, of all people, can't have magic. Magic corrupts, turning people into beasts and monsters and making them ruthless. Magic is evil. And yet, there was his clumsy, forgetful, spends-too-much-time-in-the-tavern manservant with eyes aglow in a powerful gold. The normally pure blue of innocence is turned by the touch of magic into a color that represents wealth but also destruction and all that comes to the prince's mind are the times his father has told him of the perils of sorcerers and how they should be immediately burned at the stake. Arthur had always thought that Merlin was an open book and a bad liar, but maybe that was all part of his guise. What did someone like him hope to gain from befriending the prince of Camelot? Probably a title, power, maybe even manipulate the king or future king and take the place on the throne of Camelot. A sorcerer, right by the prince's side. Oh, wouldn't their enemies laugh, Arthur thought bitterly.

All these thoughts ran through Arthur's head in a split second.

Merlin was stroking the creature's ears, and the creature seemed to be responding. It certainly wasn't preparing to eat the manservant… sorcerer. With a start (if possible, in his current state) Arthur realized that the big cat-like beast was purring. Merlin's hand was still pointing towards Arthur and the knights. After a moment, Merlin stood and strode over the Arthur.

"Arthur, I'm sorry. But I couldn't let you kill Freya. That..." He turned back to her and gave her an I don't really mean what I'm about to say smile. "...bastet, is really just a cursed druid girl."

This was news to Arthur, but it didn't stop him from struggling against his magical bonds. So what if it's... she's... a cursed druid? Magic is magic.

Magic is magic.

Merlin has magic.

"And I'm sorry for not telling you. About everything. I'm leaving, with her now, and we're going to break her curse. I also know that you won't accept me either..." He trailed off. It was hard for the prince to get over the perpetually glowing eyes, as the sorcerer maintained the bonds holding Arthur captive. It was also hard to hear the truth in the sorcerer's words.

"So we're going to leave. The spell will fade when we've gotten out of Camelot. Please don't chase after us. But, if you so choose, you could say goodbye and thank you to Gaius for me. I'll miss him. But we have to go now." He glanced up at the moon, slowly drifting towards the horizon and dawn. Abruptly, he took off running. The beast... girl... followed him, as if knowing that he was going to do that. Arthur was still frozen, but he wouldn't have been able to move it he tried.

This must be what it is like to die, he told himself.


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: Thanks all who even just bothered to check this fic out! Even though, comparatively, I'm not getting that many reviews/favs/follows, I'm still very happy that my work is simply getting read! Here is another chapter, in the 'present' this time. Read on!**

Now...

Merlin couldn't believe his eyes. He stood there, mouth hanging open, eyes widening.

Then, all of a sudden, he shut his mouth and plastered an innocent look on his face, smiling idiotically, the way Arthur remembered so well.

"What business could the king of Camelot have with a lowly warlock like me?" Merlin asked. Arthur winced slightly at both the terms king and warlock. His father's death was still fresh in his mind, and he couldn't - didn't - want to believe what has friend had told him, revealed to him...

Dropped on him like a ton of bricks.

"We need to talk." Was all the King said. The warlock peered carefully around Arthur's imposing figure filling the small doorway, and saw Leon and Percival hanging back.

"By all means," Merlin said, "do come in. I take it you got my message?"

Arthur turned round for barely a moment, to wave to his knights, before entering his former manservant's humble abode. The space was small and cluttered with books and bottles and herbs hanging from the ceiling. It reminded Arthur of Gaius's chambers, but when the King looked at these dusty tomes the writing was written in gold paint and the letters were unfamiliar to him. They were magic books.

"I thought my father had burned all of these... magic books." There were many words synonymous to magic in the King's vocabulary. Treacherous, Dangerous, destroyed, long-lost, horrible, not to be trusted...

"They're from the druids." Merlin said. "They'll do anything for their Emrys." Arthur thought the warlock sounded a little bitter, but he didn't really get what Merlin was saying anyways. There was so much he wanted to know.

The warlock strode into the kitchen, where Freya was sitting, frozen at the table. She looked frightened, remembering the last time she had seen Arthur's face, on the other end of a pointed sword. Though Merlin had since told her every story of clotpole, funny, embarrassed, honorable Arthur Pendragon, those initials fears will always be there. The reason the curse will never really leave her. Arthur seemed to regard her in a careful manner, guarded and unsure, his hand resting on his sword. His blond hair glinted in the sunlight and ruffled in the breeze. He would be charming and good-looking, but all Freya could see when she looked at him was the resemblance to his father in the sharpness of his gaze and the hardness of his eyes, he seemed cold and calculating to her even when he was being honest and frank.

"What do you want to talk about?" Merlin asked. There was a tense moment where nobody spoke. Then,

"Did you cook all this food, Merlin? And you couldn't have brought me something like this when you worked for me?" Arthur asked, eyes incredulously roaming the table. Freya stifled a chuckle.

"I didn't cook this food, sire. And unless I wanted to be beheaded, I couldn't have given you similar cuisine." Merlin said, also stifling a chuckle. Arthur's eyes widened.

"You conjured this? I thought that wasn't possible."

"Of course it's possible! You really don't know much about magic, do you?"

It was hard for Arthur, hearing his friend so flippantly mentioning magic and talking of conjuring a feast as though it were the most natural thing in the world.

"But... then why did you never heal yourself?"

There was another tense moment.

"You'd have chopped my head off." Merlin reminded him, a little sadly. Arthur considered this. Merlin sat at the table and examined what he'd conjured, looking for something specific.

"Did I really forget the sausages?" He said, almost to himself. Freya, who was feeling a little more relaxed, searched the table.

"I think you did." She said, quietly. It was the first time Arthur heard her speak, her voice soft and sweet, like ripe strawberries. Merlin shrugged. His eyes glowed and sausages appeared in his hand.

"Here." He said, handing one to Freya before munching one himself.

"There must have been some times when I wasn't there." Arthur concluded.

"Well there were... other reasons." Merlin said, looking at his toes. He sounded a little embarrassed.

"What other reasons?" Arthur asked, sitting down at the table. Merlin fidgeted a little before answering.

"I'm rubbish at healing."

And they all laughed.


	4. Chapter 4

**AN: Here's another chapter! I got a review so that made me quite excited. This is another flashback chapter, and it is shortish. Basically, it's Arthur's talk with Gaius. Not all of their conversation is shown, but it will be referenced later with explanations. **

**Purple: Thanks so much :) I can never tell whether views on the fic are people liking it or not unless they review, and you did! Here's another chapter just 'cause I saw your review...**

**Here goes!**

11 months earlier...

"Gaius..." Arthur began, but his voice cracked a little. Don't get sentimental, he told himself. Merlin was just a servant.

But that wasn't it at all.

Before Arthur could continue, an image flashed through his mind. Merlin confessing to being a sorcerer, in front of the whole court, to save Gwen. Arthur had stopped him. What an idiot Merlin must have called him. He'd been so blind, who knows how many times Merlin has used magic on him?

"Gaius, it's about Merlin." Apparently, this was not surprising to the elderly physician. He also seemed to know exactly what is on the prince's mind.

"You know, don't you, Sire?" Always so formal.

Arthur immediately realized something. Gaius knew.

"You... you knew?" Is all Arthur can say, incredulous. Gaius nods, gravely.

"Why don't you tell me what happened?" He says. How does he know that Arthur would accept him, even though he had harbored a sorcerer and allowed Arthur and his father to be duped? But of course, Gaius was a sorcerer long ago. He must not have the same bias towards it, and knows that the king and prince aren't biased towards him. So it is perfectly OK for Gaius to have harbored a sorcerer. But that doesn't mean that there wasn't a reason why. Arthur sat down next to a shelf of potions, and told Gaius about what had happened. After, Gaius took a moment and just thought.

"Arthur, you are not mad at Merlin."

The prince feels a moment of reeling confusion. Of course he is mad at Merlin! Merlin has just become the root of Arthur's greatest failing, his inability to see the faults in people he loves.

"Yes, I am." Arthur says, defiantly.

"No." Gaius contradicts, shaking his head with a small smile. "You are mad that he never told you, that he expected you to react the way your father would and have him executed, without leaving him time to explain himself."

Arthur takes a moment and ponders that.

"I... suppose that's right." He amends. Gaius nods to himself and thinks a little more. He seems to be ticking off a mental list of points to cover, before coming to a conclusion. From the direction this conversation has taken so far, Arthur has no idea what that conclusion might be.

"Can I tell you something, Sire?" He asks. This question suggests it might be something that Arthur would not necessarily have asked on his own. So he nods.

"Merlin isn't just a sorcerer." Gaius starts. Arthur shakes his head, uncomprehending. Unless Merlin turns into a beast too, which is seriously doubtful, how can he be more than a sorcerer?

Gaius seemed to read his mind. (though hopefully that isn't possible).

"There are those who say he is the most powerful sorcerer ever to walk the earth. That he is magic itself."


	5. Chapter 5

**AN: And another chapter - sorry to those who have been following my other fic, it is following behind, but I'm about to post another chapter there so don't fret! **

**There will be a little more action in the next chapter, this is just setting it up and clearing the air a little bit, but nothing is by any means fixed. **

**Just so you know, there is not going to be much present-day adventure, most of that sort of thing will happen in the flashbacks. **

**I love you all!**

**Read on!**

Now...

"Shall we go for a walk, then, sire?" Merlin asked, after Arthur had processed the information for a little while and Merlin had eaten his fill of the feast laid out on the table. Arthur simply nodded, and stood up.

"Freya, don't worry. Aithusa is here." The warlock reminded her, knowing that she would be a little anxious to be left alone with the knights. He trusted them completely, even if he claimed he'd lost that, but she wouldn't.

"Aithusa?" Arthur asked, not sure what - or who - that would be.

"My dragon." Merlin answered, getting up from the table. He started walking towards another room, one that branched off from the kitchen and that Arthur had not noticed before.

"Your dragon?!" Was it some kind of magic code to say important things out of the blue, then act as if nothing was wrong?

The room was dimly lit by floating candles that drifted aimlessly above the heads of the King and the Warlock. Tools and oddments and books and pages and scrolls and herbs were spread out along large tables, while a green liquid bubbled in a cauldron.

"You... you have a dragon?" Arthur asked. He wasn't sure he'd heard Merlin correctly.

"Well, I hatched her, so she is my responsibility until she is a little bit more grown up." Merlin explained, pointing to the fireplace. Sure enough, curled up among the flames, the white body of a beautiful dragon was sleeping, her tail twitching and little trails of smoke slowly drifting from her open mouth and nostrils. Arthur leaped back in surprise.

"How can you have a pet dragon? Don't you remember what happened with the last dragon?" Arthur shouted while whispering, a feat only the most skilled in dollop-headedness can accomplish.

"You don't have to whisper. Aithusa is a deep sleeper. And of course I remember! I was the one who defeated Kilgharrah and sent him back to his home. Did you really buy that story about you getting a lucky blow?"

Arthur sat down, right on the floor, amid all the forbidden books and tools.

"But... Balinor..." Arthur started to protest.

"...was my father, yes, so when he died I inherited his dragonlord powers. But I'd been going to Kilgharrah for years, asking him for advice. He forced me to make a deal to get more help, and swore on my mother's life that I would release him. I had no choice." Merlin's voice had gone from pity for Arthur to sadness and regret.

"That means that you..." Arthur began again, and again was unable to finish.

"Yes, Arthur, I was the one who released Kilgharrah."

"How could...?" Arthur finally found his voice once more, but trailed off, his hand going to his sword.

"Let's take that walk and I'll tell you. I only came down here to grab... this." The warlock pulled, from under a pile of junk, his Sidhe staff.

"Why do you need that? And what is it?" Arthur couldn't keep the curiosity out of his voice.

"I don't know, but we might meet bandits and this will help."

"I could protect you." Arthur replied, feeling as though his own skills were being overlooked.

"Arthur, all I've ever done is protect you."

"Until Freya came along."

A tear trickled down Merlin's cheek, but he was also smiling. Arthur nearly laughed - two things he'd never expected to come between him and merlin: magic and a woman.


	6. Chapter 6

**AN: This is a rather short chapter, and I apologize, but it wouldn't really work to elongate it. However, there are longer chapters coming, so hopefully those will make up for it! **

**Read On! **

11 Months Ago...

Arthur suddenly became conscious of himself. Though slightly befuddled, he realized he was dreaming. Normally, when someone realizes they're dreaming, they wake up. But not this time, for Arthur didn't feel the familiar pull of consciousness tugging at his mind. He was content, as the bleak darkness slowly solidified into a dream.

Merlin was there, that much was certain. He wasn't even sure how he knew that, but as the image became clearer, he realized that the person running was most definitely his manservant. He and the bastet were traveling through the forest, though not as fast as they could have been. There was a flame flickering in Merlin's palm, and the sight of it momentarily startled the prince, but he remained calm, despite his anger. Merlin and the Bastet kept going for a while, every so often glancing up at the moon. Arthur couldn't see why, unless they were checking the time. He would have to ask Gaius about that... it must be something to do with magic.

His manservant was a sorcerer... no, what was it Gaius had called him? A warlock.

That fact would hit him out of nowhere like a punch, leaving his gasping for air and wondering if maybe he was going crazy, because it didn't seem right that Merlin was a sorcerer. He thought back to what Gaius had so blatantly seen, the fact that he wasn't angry with Merlin. He was angry with the lies that had been necessary. Did that mean he was angry with his father's laws?

Eventually, Merlin and the bastet stopped in a clearing, where the cat had fallen to the ground, twitching. Arthur seemed to be floating above them, so he couldn't hear anything, but he did see the bastet transform back into a girl. Merlin had fallen asleep next to her. As soon as he did, the dream began to fade.


	7. Chapter 7

**AN: Oh, wow... I'm SO SORRY EVERYBODY! It has been an appallingly long time since the last chapter! I hope you all haven't given up on me or anything...**

**I had a brief writer's block, and then I got an email about a new follower or favorite (Love those! They brighten my day! *hint hint*) I basically thought "Oh yeah, that thing called fan fiction...". Also, I'm reading this new book called ****Fangirl****, which obviously reminded me, since it basically described my life. **

**Anyway! Enjoy the next (though rather short) chapter! Post more soon! **

Now...

As warlock and king stepped out into the bright air, Arthur immediately took to asking more questions.

"So, where are we walking to?"

"I don't know. We're just walking."

"Are you lying to me?"

"Why would you ask that?" Merlin asked, genuinely confused.

Arthur just looked at him incredulously. After being convinced that Merlin was actually confused, and not joking, he spoke.

"When have you ever not?" Arthur asked, his anger rearing its ugly head. "Lied to me, I mean."

The smile fell from Merlin's face, and Arthur knew that had been a low blow. "Sorry."

"I never wanted to lie, you know. Once we'd gotten to be friends,"

"We are not friends! You are my servant and I am the king and, above all else, you are the most powerful warlock ever to walk the earth!" Arthur's tirade interrupted Merlin's apology.

"Then why haven't I been burned at the stake?" Merlin said quietly, running a hand abashedly along the back of his head, ruffling his black hair.

Arthur at once knew he'd been trapped. He gazed off into the distance, eyes unfocused, until Merlin pulled him back.

"Once we'd gotten to be friends," Merlin paused, expecting Arthur to correct him again. The king was silent. "I wanted to tell you every day. But I couldn't."

"And why not?" They had begun descending into the valley, dewy grass brushing at their shoes and trousers and little crickets springing to and fro.

"It's my destiny to serve you, Arthur. I am always loyal to you."

"But you didn't think that feeling was reciprocated?"

"That's a big word Arthur, well done." Merlin cajoled, smiling for the first time. Arthur took a swing at the back of Merlin's head, but his arm bounced off an invisible shield.

"Cheater." Arthur muttered, noting Merlin's eyes flashing gold. Merlin smirked, elated at being able to use magic in front of the king. It was a new feeling, and not all bad.

"I knew that you were loyal to me - you've rescued me from bandits and we've had so many adventures together, I can hardly dismiss that."

"Then, why-" Arthur asked again. Merlin held up a hand, stopping the King - physically, not with magic.

"I didn't want to force you to choose between your father and me. So, when I told you - in order to save Freya - I knew I needed to run, because a very wise friend once told me that we are destined to work together and unite Albion, two sides of the same coin, and all that rubbish."

Arthur looked slightly shocked: the 'and all that rubbish' seemed to cover a lot of ground.

"Well, ok then," The King amended. He looked around for something else to grill the Warlock on. Finally, his eyes rested on the staff that Merlin was casually swinging next to him as they walked. "What's that thing?"

Merlin looked a little startled as he realized he was carrying it. He sometimes forgot that he was no longer among people who always knew about magical oddments, like Freya or the druids.

"It's a staff." He replied. Again - Merlin felt that this should be obvious. The waves of power radiated from the staff, even though it just a channel for other magic.

"But... what does it do?"

"It's a Sidhe staff, I got it when they were trying to kill you, and one of them tried to drown you in the lake of Avalon. Or wait, no, I don't think Gaius and I told you about that."

Arthur neither remembered that nor knew what it meant, so he just asked again.

"But what does it do?"

"Whatever I want it too." Merlin shrugged. He turned to Arthur and noticed that the King was looking a little unhappy with that prospect.

"It's like a channel for magic. I don't really need it anymore, but I also don't want to tire myself out, in case I do need to do magic, so I just brought it anyways."

"I see." Arthur said, not sure how to respond to this casual discussion of something so forbidden, despite the fact that he had brought it up. Would he ever be used to it?

They had crested the other side of the valley, and were now about to enter the woods, with sparse trees and no path. Nameless things seemed to skitter among the trees, and dark mist hung in the air.

"Are we really going in there, Merlin?" Arthur asked.

"Scared, Arthur?" Merlin said with a smile, knowing what the reaction would be.

"A king does not get scared, Merlin."

"Then what is the problem?"

Upon hearing this, Arthur stalked into the woods, calling as he went, "There is no problem!"


	8. Chapter 8

**AN: Another short chapter, I'm sorry. The flashbacks are hard to draw out, because I just have certain things I want to say in each one. The next chapter should be a little longer (though I feel like I keep saying that - you must be getting tired of hearing it!). **

**ArthurianDream: Thanks :) I'm glad I'm capturing the characters right. I feel like it's not that difficult, especially because they banter all the time in the show, but it still feels AMAZING to hear it! Thank you thank you thank you! **

**Read on!**

10 months ago...

He'd had another dream the night before. This time, his former manservant was resting in a campsite, with the bastet - now in the form of a girl. He still couldn't hear anything, but that was OK. They were probably talking about all sorts of magical nonsense that would only make the Prince's head hurt. Not that it wasn't hurting already. Not that he couldn't follow a conversation. He just wasn't learned in the ins and outs of magic. This was the first time he'd even considered it.

It had been a month since Merlin left. Though Arthur had forgiven him, and sent out patrols to find the warlock, there was no sign, except these dreams. Dreams of Merlin running, the bastet loping beside him; dreams of Merlin and the girl going into a town and buying food, clothes, blankets. Dreams of Merlin in the tavern, drinking some ale, perhaps a little too much; and having the girl drag him out. Dreams of the girl and Merlin kissing, which made far too much sense, as they relaxed under the clouds.

Sometimes Arthur wished he could turn his subconscious off.

Arthur didn't understand. He just wanted Merlin to come home, and for them to have a long conversation, and for all to be forgiven. For things to go back to normal.

No, not back to normal. Better than normal. Because now Arthur could really, properly thanks his manservant. Can people cry while having dreams?

This dream was different. They had stopped somewhere that seemed completely random. Merlin had pointed out across a valley, and though it was nighttime, the moon was full and the stars were out; so it gave the impression of a cloudy day, though the shapes and distance and size of objects was difficult to gauge. Small, round things dotted the hillside opposite (where they sheep?), and flowers of pink and purple and white popped up here and there among the grass. With a flash of gold, Merlin built a campfire and set out the blankets as the girl hugged him. They were so happy, but Arthur couldn't help feel a dull ache - although he would never admit it, Merlin was a dear friend, and Arthur had all but chased him away.


End file.
